


argue

by Hugabug



Series: bayaniserye drabble challenge [10]
Category: Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Depression, Guilt, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hugabug/pseuds/Hugabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Portia liked to argue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	argue

**Author's Note:**

> before you say anything: i DID say any other fandom aside from henlu.

Portia liked to argue.

This much was true—everybody knew it. She didn’t defy her father and enter law school for nothing, after all. Debate and wit were her forte, even when she had been young and compromising on the playground of her posh little prep school. There was something in the thrill of a dousing the flames of a challenger, an acute pleasure in seeing the foundation of their philosophy crumble before their very eyes. It was elating, and it was no secret that Portia Bellamonte adored the sound of her own voice.

That is… until it became the only sound in the room.

Bassy was her best friend. Next to Nerissa, he was her closest confidant and steady partner in crime. They’ve gone through much together in college, from parties and bar fights spurned on by her carelessness and his love of the flashy. Like her, he never shut up.

Silence in Bassanio was foreign. Except when around the love of his life.

It had been sickening for Portia, or at least that’s what she had always said with a roll of her eyes and a mischievous smile. Antonio and Bassanio were her boys, were part of her chosen clan. And even if nobody had ever dreamed that the quiet, shy Antonio would ever accept the larger than life Bassanio into his heart, or that golden-party-boy Bassanio would ever fall for the sweet, upright Antonio, Portia knew, saw the little hints of longing in both their eyes. With just a little sly push in the right direction, Antonio, to her, had become Anty just as Bassanio had become Bassy and Portia, for all her wit and logic and well-honed critical thinking skills, could do nothing but imagine the happiest of endings for the most beautiful couple on earth.

She was naïve. She sees that now.

Now, in this sterile white room, surrounded by curtains and bustling nurses. They whisper behind their masked faces as Bassy clutches a pale hand, almost as sickly white as the walls, to his face.

_Attempted suicide_. The doctors said, in a hushed, secret whisper. _We haven’t examined the circumstances thoroughly yet, but according to our tests, it seems like he hasn’t taken his anti-depressants lately._

Nerissa had been furious. _Did you know about this, Bassanio?_

No. He hadn’t.

How could he when he had been away with Portia for two weeks on a case the law firm they had been interning at? How could he when even a heartfelt “I love you” said over the phone a thousand times, each more tender than the last, had little impact on the looming shadow that engulfed Antonio’s mind? How could he, when sweet, self-loathing Antonio wouldn’t even tell any of them that he had run out of anti-depressants one week into their absence?

_He probably didn’t want to disturb me_. Bassanio had sobbed, clutching Antonio’s limp hand in his, bringing cold fingers up to his lips. _I should’ve_ known _. I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have left._

Portia had tried to find words to counter that. Had tried putting the blame on Antonio’s psychiatrist, for not supplying him with more medicine, on his neighbor, that loud Gratiano, for not checking up on him the way Bassanio and Portia had bid him to before they left— _hell_ she’d even tried blaming Jessica and Lorenzo for not finding him fast enough, for not cutting him down sooner.

_He was so_ blue _, Portia_. Jessica had cried, breathing quick and shallow and scared. _I thought—we thought—_

It was a case lost.

Portia Bellamonte could argue the innocence of sinners and the guilt of saints.

But this—the weak beating of a plagued heart and the soft sobs of a broken man who loved that heart so much did nothing to still her throbbing guilt— _this_ was a case she could never win.

_We shouldn’t have left him alone_.

Antonio nearly died.  And it was their goddamn fault.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr ver.](http://en-sam-malas.tumblr.com/post/146792643410/argue)


End file.
